Find eight locations that you determine would not be locations likely to be noted by anyone else. They are ‘secret’ locations. Why would anyone want to look at them. They could be ordinary, or located at out-of-the-way locations, hidden or intimate.
Take a photograph of each one.
Send these photographs to your partner. Your partner will send you his/her photographs in return. You will send them to each other.
If you cannot take the photograph (phone photos are fine) email me and I will choose locations and send them to you. You probably will like to work with a partner orather than me.
One a single sheet of Bristol board do eight separate drawings of these eight ‘secret’ locations. Use graphite, detail, direction of light (invent a direction if you must), value and contrast.
If you are able, attach copies of the photo locations to your drawings, (a paper clip will do.)
Develop a short story (at least three paragraphs) about how these locations may be connected, even if they are not, try to connect them. Write the story and turn it in, attached to the assignment.
Janee Maxie
It seems as though he just started preschool, a tiny little toddler attached to my hand as I brought him to his first day at Sunnyside Daycare Center. He learned his ABC’s and 123’s, made friends and lost his first teeth in these few years. He often told me his stories and the fun he would have on his way to the park with his friends. And his stories only got wilder and wilder once he got to the actual park. How he would exaggerate the speeds at which he raced down the slide, or how fast he ran during his baseball game, and especially the heights he had achieved while on the swings.
Then he quickly reached middle school, where it wasn’t “cool” to be seen with me. He was quite an outgoing person, which meant plenty of after school time at club meetings, sports meets and games, and fundraisers. A lot of me waiting in the school parking lot for him to run out and tell me about his day, and what sort of projects and bake sales he needed me to help with. Then it was finally a break for him (and me) when his summer vacation finally came. His normal routine involved three things and three things only: eat, sleep, and swim, not necessarily in that order, but swimming was most definitely high on the list of priorities.
It wasn’t long before he started high school, which involved all of the previous activities, but to a level I wasn’t expecting. More club meetings and more sports, only now he could drive himself. The four years that encompass all of high school passed by rather quickly (for me at least. For him, it probably seemed like a never ending journey). School tours took up much of his last year and a half, and when he finally got his acceptance letter he was so excited. Now, as I sit here, staring up at his new residence hall, I can’t help but be so happy and proud that he got accepted into UC Davis, and as an animal science major no less. Where he can work with all of the cows, chickens, dogs, horses his animal loving heart desires.
Katherine Fukui
I am always looking. Looking straight up or out, wishing and hoping. Trees, rocks, twigs, sun, sky. Brick, concrete, metal, lamps, cars. So much beauty within reach, or so it seems. I want to feel the rays fall upon me and the breeze rush past me with slight threats of knocking of me over. But it seems impossible for me. All I can do is keep looking, looking, looking…
I am rooted here, planted and bounded in a soil and clay prison. I remember the first time I could see. Streets lined with houses and cars filled my horizon. Sun light trickled through the window and the clouds were barely visible within my view. But we moved away in the vehicle and I never saw that scene again. I was seized to a dark underground space with seemingly endless paths leading to who knows where. Through tunnels I went, until I was brought high up, only able to look at the world through a glass pane.
Disregarding my feelings, I’m moved around. All I can do is look at where I’m brought. It’s as if they don’t think I’d care. I suppose I don’t really, but it’s painful. Seeing all these beautiful sights, I’m reminded of the fact I can do nothing more than peer up at the vents, ceiling decorations, or oddly placed coins in front of me. I want to be out there where everyone can travel and change their view whenever they want while I’m stuck in here wishing and yearning. I’m breathing but I’m not living.
Shawn Wong
When we were younger, my siblings and I loved to share ghost stories before we went to sleep. Some of these stories were humorous while others were terrifying. Over the years of storytelling, my sister had developed a subconscious habit for detecting ghosts and ghouls. She would repeatedly examine the empty sections of her closet and the vacant space under her bed until her heart’s content before she could finally rest in peace. Here’s one of the stories we shared.
Not far from here is a house surrounded by a forest of trees. The locals believed that the house was haunted by an insane man who loved to torture trespassers because those who went into the forest never returned. And so, the villagers built a fence around the area to prohibit further entrees. Regardless of the warnings, there were daredevils every year who would challenge this belief by attempting to become the first to explore the area and return unharmed. Most of these young adults assumed that the warnings were simply stories created by local villagers as tourist attractions, like Dracula or the Loch Ness Monster. But as expected and forewarned by the villagers, the tourists who entered the forest never returned to the village.
The path which led to the house is now completely destroyed. In fact the route was dug so deep that a muddy river had taken its place. Despite the weather and the natural disasters that occurred around the area, the water level and the river itself always remained the same, unaltered and flowing smoothly with contaminated river water. In addition, the river was always blood red.
Based on a collection of past tales regarding the restricted vicinity, the house was once a beautiful place. A young couple had lived there. They enjoyed tending a variety of flowers and trees that existed around their house. Because they resided far from any civilization, they had miles of greeneries to themselves. One day, the husband left the house to attend to some errands, but returned to find that his house had been ransacked. He was immediately concerned with the safety of his wife and began to search for her but discovered that she had been murdered. She was lying in the kitchen in cold blood. He knew that a suicide was impossible for his wife; they loved each other too much for that to happen. Despite the lack of evidence, the husband assumed that an intruder was responsible for his wife’s departure. From that day on, he remodeled and enlarged his house over and over until it had a maze-like quality: dead end hallways, secret compartments, unending stairways, secret passages, and secret rooms. The husband buried his wife in the exact spot that she last touched and made it the center of the house. Although he acknowledged her death, his remodeling showed that he still wanted to protect her and wished that he was there for her on the day of her death. The house was so distorted that a sense of direction would be difficult to form without years of experience in the house. Because he was preoccupied with the reconstruction of his house, the flowers and trees that were once beautiful had rotted away and were replaced by larger and wilder plants hence the presence of the forest that surrounds the house.
Because the husband’s preconception of his wife’s death, he despised all outsiders and became the insane man who tortured all intruders in order to avenge his wife. Although there were no survivors, the villagers believed that the haunted house granted easy entrance because the gate which enveloped the house was unlocked and swung wide open as if guests were anticipated. But as I mentioned before, there were no returnees to prove that the story was true. As a result, many innovative tales were invented to bring new dimensions to the original story. Some claimed that a water valve existed outside the house and if the valve was unscrewed, blood would overflow from it. Others claimed that a park bench was built near the house and was painted with the blood of the tourists who had fallen victim to the husband. But again, none of these tales can be confirmed because no one had returned from the forest to tell the tale.
Nathaniel MacMillan
The journey opened upon a bright foggy morn, scattered rays of light falling through the branches that lay motionless above this quiet courtyard. The dull murmurings of the passers-by can be heard above the gentle breeze; their comings and goings urging me to travel onward. From my radiant stoop I ventured due East until I happened upon a curious depression in the pavement ahead of me which upon closer examination revealed a flight of stairs which descended into the labyrinthine structure below. After thoroughly losing all sense of direction in this maze I came across a welcoming bench which stood drenched in the glow of a stray ray of sunlight.
Having rested some time here, I turned another unknown corner which led me to the deck of some industrial observation post. I looked out and admired the altitude at which I now stood and gazed upward to see a strange network of passageways and catwalks connecting the various locales within this utilitarian ziggurat.
Exhausted of having lost my way -- and nearly my bearings -- I began trying at doors haphazardly, attempting to navigate my way back to the open sky. After many failed attempts, and several very confused-looking groups of people in interrupted meetings, I found the one that got me out. Fresh air. Turning back to look from whence I came, I saw a modest-looking bicycle before a strangely-marked door and the first foliage I had seen since morning.
As the sun descended, I strode through the evergreens, seeing lights from distant windows pierce through the leaves. When the sun hit the horizon, the sky turned a brilliant lavender hue and soft clouds floated atop it. The automobiles in the lot soon began to flee homeward; and by dusk they - and the couple that had walked past on the sidewalk - had vanished.
Shelby Rustin
The Adventure
This is the story of Charlie. Charlie loved to explore his surroundings, he was very adventurous. Now you’re probably thinking Charlie is an average kid, but he is Far from that. He is a five-inch long rat. He was a rat that loved humans and their luxuries but there was only one problem with that. They didn't exactly love him back.
Since Charlie wasn't wanted by the humans he needed to find a way to get in and out of the house of his choice. He fell in love with the house on Maple Street. Once he had chosen the house he found four entrances into the house, three hiding spots and one way to spy on the humans. There was a mail slot on the front of the house that he could climb through. A railing that leads to a window a fireplace with a Chimney to slide down and roof access. Once he had planed his routs and ways into the house he found a bench in the yard with a dark space underneath a hidden cupboard and a small closet under the stairs to hide if the humans ever got close to finding him. In the backyard there was a perfect spot for Charlie to spy on the humans if he was ever curious of their whereabouts; two holes in the fence perfect for his little body to sneak right through.
Charlie’s life was not easy by any means. But if he wanted to live the lifestyle of a human he would have to be smart, sneaky and sly. Since that's what he strived for he went on an adventure of a lifetime and succeeded!
Joseph Na
The pursuit of comfort
Sunday afternoon, sitting in a study lounge to prepare for the upcoming midterm. With several students studying next to me, I feel like I need to find a quiet place to focus. I look out the window and see the sun shining down on me. So I decide to go to my favorite coffee shop , bonjour, to get some snacks and study. Once I get to the coffee shop, I notice the perfect weather. 77F, sunny afternoon, and I felt like I need to take advantage of this beautiful weather. So I decide to take a walk around this small town.
My first destination is John Williams Park. This park was named after a local mailman who sacrificed himself to save two children from drowning in 1978. The incident occurred at the Pier 55 beach, one block away from the park. Despite the perfect weather, I noticed that there’s not that many people out today, so I headed to the beach to see if anyones out today. Surprisingly, the beach was empty. Sunshine was perfect, not too windy and very warm, but there is not a single person out at the beach today. while looking around to see if anyone is enjoying this beautiful day, I see the lighthouse, the place I’ve always wanted to go. I lived in this town for 3 years and I never got to get on top of the lighthouse to enjoy the beautiful Bay Area view.
Today is the day, so I walked half an mile to the lighthouse. After paying $4 for the admission, I began to walk up the stairs to reach to the top of the lighthouse. I was surprised that there was no elevators in this tall structure. After walking up the stairs for five long minutes, I finally reached to the top of the lighthouse. The view was spectacular. I was able to see the entire Bay area from one spot. The air was refreshing and I felt like I owned the world. This moment, I didn’t think about school, work, family, friends but the view. After having very stressful week of school and work, I really needed this moment to relax. I sat on the bench, and closed my eyes to relax and enjoyed the perfect weather. With the thought of that I needed this sense of comfort, I made my mind go blank to seize the moment.
After hours of enjoying the sunset at the lighthouse, it was time for me to go home. Instead of taking the bus home,I walked through John William park, my first destination to head home. On the way I began to crave some food. Especially a nicely cooked rib eye steak... So I.....
woke up. Oh yea.. I’m homeless
Long Luu
Eight different locations, eight different bodies, and one killer responsible for it all. These homicides are the works of a killer who’s still at large and is at a kill streak of eight victims. The bodies of the victims each were dispersed among eight different locations, and each victim was killed by stab wounds in which the killer used precise stabs as his/her trademark. Because of the victims locations, the police had a feeling that the killer had chosen the locations so that he/she could observe the police as they are investigating the body.
Location #1; the body was found just before the pier, right at the gated fence entrance to the docks, overlooking residential houses, cause of death; a single stab wound. Location #2; the victim was found underneath a ladder just outside a classroom building, with two stab wounds. Location #3; the body was stabbed three times, and left right at the docks. Location #4; the body was reported found drifting among the lake just outside of a castle vacation resort. Victim had died of bleeding due to 4 stab wounds. And so on for the rest of the locations. Each location had a increase ascending number of stab wounds. Why did the killer decide to choose this pattern? And why did the killer decide to dump the bodies at these random locations?
The killer’s patter symbolizes and represents that there was not only a single killer, but eight different killers. The eight killers had come together with a plan to spread out the chances of getting caught. Henceforth eight different murders done by eight different killers, but the police are only looking for a single killer. The premise behind the killer’s story was that each one of them wanted someone dead, but the chances of getting away with murder is slim, but if there were eight victims and one killer the other seven would be free. So the gamble within the killers was if one of them were to get caught, he/she would take the blame – setting the other killers free and innocent.
Mark Tanael
The Rock
Rick Riley, otherwise known by his nickname “The Rock”. A handle given only to the most decorated, skilled, and experienced member of the elite counter terrorism squad called N.O. A.C.C.E.S.S. The squad specializes in foreign threats of all sizes throughout the state of California. Usually hidden in the shadows, the team operates undercover from the eyes of civilians. On a hazy, lull driven south bay afternoon, General Black Mamba of No Access receives an urgent call concerning a potential threat at a local school. With a threat of this magnitude, the General had no choice but to call on the special unit, led by his most trusted agent, Rick Riley.
Upon arriving at the scene, The Rock enters campus with little information regarding the threat. This is when the team receives a call, the person on the other line says asks for The Rock, and during their short conversation, they find out that the person on the other line is the one behind it all, as he told the agents that they have 8 hours to find the lethal toxins enclosed in 8 briefcases hidden all over campus. The Professor, as he preferred to be called, stated that every hour one of the briefcases will explode and the airborne toxins will infect thousands. He gave them 8 clues on to where these locations were, all in the form of equations and puzzles that would take days to solve.
After their encounter with The Professor, The Rock immediately sets his teams. He leads the team that searches the campus for the briefcases while he has the General and his team at the headquarters decoding all the clues. Hour by hour, The Rock and his team were given the locations of the briefcases, found in random places such as the special collections section on a shelf in the library, underneath a stairway, in a trash can across the art building, the roof of gym, underneath the bleachers, on a bench near the quad, top floor the mathematics building, and lastly sitting on a chair in an empty lecture hall. The team cut it close on each one but they still managed to diffuse the threat. As The Rock was leaving the campus, he receives another call, it was The Professor and he said, “Forgot to tell you about the ninth case…game over Riley” Then a loud explosion was heard all the way from the design building.
Nancy Pulciano
Nutty Nuts
The warmth of the sun reflects on the silky coat of Nutty Nuts, the loneliest squirrel in Davis, California. Waking up every morning to find out that once again he is all alone and nut-less. Poor Nutty, it’s not that he loses his acorns or like the other squirrels and forgets where they stash them. It’s that even his acorns don’t want to stick with him. Like all of the other lonely days today was to be no different. His routine would start as follows: wake up, find food, be lonely, watch other squirrels play, be more lonely, find food, be lonely, and then go home. So as he began on his hunt for food, Nutty came across some sort of door that had the words WHAT MUST WE DO FOR LOVE written on it. Nutty began to cry because he didn’t know what to do for love. Was this some sort of sign? His mother and father got ran over by cars on separate occasions. So no one ever really taught him how to love or be loved.
Sulking in his new profound loneliness he climbs up onto the treetops to try and clear his mind. Looking down he sees people interacting and being with one another. Oh how Nutty felt the sorrows of loneliness weighing down on him, weighing him down so much that even the branch he was sitting on began to sink. But no, his branch was not sinking it was Dolores and Harris playing with each other. Disgusted, Nutty almost literally flew to a new location; if people saw him they would have probably mistaken him for a flying squirrel. Relocated to where most squirrels would never go, on a roof, Nutty began to meditate. After hours of meditating almost to the point of Nirvana, he was so rudely interrupted. Across the roof he sees another squirrel, a female squirrel. Annoyed thinking she was going to soon be accompanied by another squirrel Nutty went home taking the long route passing by the benches.
On his way home he stopped to look in a puddle of water that was near the only bike locked up. Even the bike made him feel lonely because the bike was locked to something and wasn’t really lonely. At this moment Nutty wished he was the bike bound to chains because being so free was not all that free when you are alone. Leaving the bike he now so despised, Nutty continued his walk to find a home for the night because there was nowhere he really belonged. Finding himself inside a dingy building he came across that squirrel, the one who was crying earlier today. Nutty tried to go the other way, but she called him over. Having the feeling that there was no choice Nutty approached her. Instantly she told him, “What must we do for love.” Nutty never knew anything but now he knew one thing. She was the one. He took her hand and they went outside and although it was nighttime, it had never been so light and bright out. Laughing and loving they left to find a permanent home, together. Nutty was never to be lonely again.
Ying Wa, Lu
I finally get a chance to go back to my home town today after almost ten years of time. I still remember those things that me and sister used to experience and grew together with. I went back to places near our old house, seems like everything has changed.
I and my sister used to walk to school every day. We walked pass blocks of pale red temporary houses and we were always interested by those leafless twigged plants around their side. We tend to questioned about who in the earth would be interested in these colorless, unattractive plants. On the other hand, ever since February or March, there’re always tons of cherry blossom trees along the sidewalk. We always got so excited to pick up those little pink pedals no matter how short they’ll last
Today I walked along the same path we used to walk every day. This beautiful naturalistic place seems to become a more urban place now. Buildings are built around the greens. I even see a broken chair at the corner behind the rock. People seem to pay less attention to the nature. The little park we used to go after school has now became a place for people to do storage or a place for putting recycles. I was standing at one side of the tunnel, seeing greens on the other side. The tunnel seems to represent these ten years of time. The place of nature and greens has now became a concrete, urban place.
Kate Mihelitch
Mr. Bradshaw’s Journey Home
It was a normal day for Mr. Bradshaw in the beautiful city of San Francisco. He was returning home from a long and tiring day of working at the candy shop, when his usual route was blocked by his worst nightmare—sidewalk fish. Mr. Bradshaw’s peculiar fear of sidewalk fish caused him to seek an alternate route home, for the fish were all over the entrance to his apartment building.
He proceeded through an alley that he had been told was dangerous, but he saw no other options. As he approached the alley the notorious gang—the Franciscans, met him. Despite their mocking, he kept his head down and made it through unscathed. He continued down the street and reached the backside of his apartment building. Though the metal was old and rusted, he climbed up the fire escape up to his window—but to his dismay the window was locked. He continued to climb up onto the roof and down a pipe on the side of the building through an open window.
His kitten, Whiskers, greeted him and sat on his lap while Mr. Bradshaw kicked off his shoes and watched the sunset from his window. With his view facing away from the city, he was reminded of his country home away from the hussle and bussle of the city.
Trina Do
To New Beginnings
“It’s quiet today, peaceful actually. I wonder how it’s going to be when I’m away,” Kathy said to herself as she stepped outside. The cold winter air blew through the neighborhood as she left her house for the last time. Kathy walked through her neighborhood trying to keep this last picture of her walking through her neighborhood in her memories. She felt like reminiscing on everything that happened over the years; all the people she met, all the fond memories, and events that went on. As she approached the walkway, she remembered how beautiful it was there during the summer times. She walked past this electricity box. A memory started to appear in her head. She remembered when she was little, Kathy and her friends would play hide and seek, and she’d always hide by this electricity box and the bushes. It would be her special hiding spot, and her friends would have the hardest time finding her. Kathy smiled to herself thinking about it.
All these memories and thoughts about leaving were going through her head. She needed to clear her mind and think. So she walked up this trail in the park, and she found herself in the same place she always went to clear her mind. It was a spot with a bench overlooking the water. It was her place to think; where she could feel anything, and somehow in the end she’d always be okay. She didn’t know how ready she was to leave, but somehow she cleared her mind, and everything was okay. There was nothing to be scared of, and she knew this place would always be here for her if she ever wanted to come back. Kathy walked more along the park, looking down on the lighthouse. The Karpman family was always so nice and generous to everyone. How she would miss them, along with everyone else.
It was 2:11, it was time to leave. She walked up the stairs, leaving the park. Embracing every memory that she kept, she knew it was time to let go of this past, and start a new beginning. She arrived at the station. Everything began to move so fast from there. 2:30 already, and there it was, her time to get on. Kathy quickly took a look back at all the station, embracing her last second. Then, she walked in, sat down, and got settled. As the subway started to move, she watched out the window as the last of her hometown slowly went away. She realized she didn’t feel sad, but relaxed, because she knew everything would be okay. And she left her old life behind, and felt excited to start her new one.
Elise Shaheen
I could hear the rain tip tapping overhead as I stretched and out of glided out of bed. As I opened the front door a sudden feeling of alertness came about me. I knew that some fantastical event would occur this day. I’m not sure if it was the way the old red paint of my apartment building danced away from the wood paneling in curling pirouettes, or if it was the manner in which the dewy fallen leaves seemed to smile brightly in contrast with the dark damp earth. Even the soft pitter-patter of my footsteps as I emerged from the deep stairwell seemed to emulate a sense of hope and promise of the day to come.
Like a dance on a warmly lit stage, the pitter-patters of my footsteps transformed into the thud-thud thudding of a sensual flamenco dance as I marched through the pulpy ground. I thudded my way underneath the tree I liked to call the grandmother tree because of the way it’s branches seemed to create the warm and reaching embrace that only a grandmother can provide. Childhood memories of Christmas morning danced through my head, opening gifts after breakfast. We always got matching gifts: Twin pink tutus, fresh leather slippers, satin hair bows that bounced in unison as we leaped in excitement with each new gift presented to us.
The egg head that greeted me on my walk each morning caught me as I grinned at the thought of the days we had together. It seemed to smile back—it too knew what the day had in store.
Underneath the dancing trees I thought for a moment that I heard a familiar giggle. It was a welcomed giggle, one I had not heard in a while. News of the tragedy had long faded away from the pages of the yellow newsprint that filled the wire stands along the pathway. But it would never fade from my heart, especially not on a day such as this one. She wanted me to remember and as I approached the corridor leading to the room lined with mirrors I thought just for one tiny moment that I might have seen the tails of her satin ribbon floating around the corner. Light on my toes as not to give away my presence I sashayed down the hallway hoping that just this once she would let me catch up to her. But as I neared the large silver doors leading out of the building where we choreographed so many of our childhood memories, I realized that this would be the last encore. It had been eight years since we dressed up in our twin tutus, eight years since we giggled at the barre, eight years of solos. This was her way of telling me it was finally time to let her take her place on stage for the last time. Her last curtsy.
Maggie Yue
02/21/11
Despite the fact that today’s horoscope for Libras urge her to not step outside the house, Jayme decided to take a trip to the bookstore to do some shopping. Although it may not have seemed possibly true, Jayme found herself a witness to a mass murdering at the bookstore. First, her body was frozen with fear from all the killing, the blood, and the dead bodies but her adrenaline finally kicked in when she saw that she would soon be a part of the killing-if she did not run soon. As her body finally allowed her to take off in a sprint through the wet parking lot, she could hear rapid footsteps splashing towards her from a distance. 4 of the 8 killers went after her, shooting wildly in her direction as she ran.
Out of breathe, Jayme soon found herself faced towards a building with a wire fence surrounding a water heater next to the locked entrance. As the gun shot sounds grew louder and closer, she hopped over the fence and hid behind the water heater. Surprisingly, she found a hole hidden from the world right behind the heater, and as the killers were starting to look around the building, she climbed into the hole. As if the hole was created on purpose, Jayme emerged from the hole and into a dark stairway. The stairway, for some reason did not lead into any rooms into the rest of the building. This stairway instead, ran straight into one door that led into the back of the building, where a rusting old stairway led onto a pathway towards the woods.
As Jayme exited the doorway onto the stairs out back, one of the killers popped out of an old refrigerator sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Taken by a combination of surprise and fear, Jayme fell backwards off the top of the stairs, hitting her head onto a big pipe. The impact was so hard on Jayme’s head; it was amazing she did not die upon impact, yet she only fell unconscious. While blood was gushing from her head, Jayme awoken from the fall half dazed, but conscious enough to know she was being dragged along a pathway surrounded by leaves and plants wrapped around a balcony. Her fear grew as she saw a trail of her own blood trailing behind her, and at that moment Jayme knew her life was over. As she was roughly thrown onto a picnic table the killers pointed their gun to her head and asked for her last words. All Jayme could think of in that moment was one thing, so she decided it would be her last. “ Damn, I should’ve listened to that Horoscope.”Then it was over, and Jayme felt her own body being thrown into the river next to that picnic table.
